My name is Cat and I’m a shoeaholic

It was 4.17pm today when I realised I had a problem. “I think i’m gonna go to the River Island sale and see what the shoes are like.” I said to my sister-in-law. She texted me back asking why I needed to buy more shoes. “For the 3 weddings i’m going to this summer”, I replied. “What about those black ones I bought you last Christmas that you’ve only worn once” came her reply.

….

“What black ones?!!” I thought. I racked my brains trying to think of the shoes she’d bought me. And then I remembered. I’d seen them in a boutique at home in County Cork. I’d drooled over them, but being a smalltown boutique I felt they were overpriced for what they were and I somehow, magically, decided not to buy them. Four weeks later and they were in my hands, all wrapped up and pretty! And now, here I was 6 months later and I couldn’t even remember that they belonged to me. I was a shoe traitor.

I blame my addiction somewhat on my favourite choice of tv show as a kid. I’m sure you’ll all remember this.

Margot the ballet slipper was my favourite, FYI.

In the end I didn’t go into River Island. I took a long, hard look at my finances and realised i’d been shopping far too much recently and, rather than buying more, I needed to get rid of lots! (To whit, I’ll be having a blogsale soon, just to see how it goes, so keep your eyes peeled!)
I came home & emptied out my shoes. From the bottom of my wardrobe, from 3 large bags, from a weekend bag and from a large IKEA carrier bag – you know, the ones that are used to carry FURNITURE?

And this, this here, is the damage. Eeeks!

Pump up the jam

Hoots Man! there’s boots loose about this hoose!

Heeling in the years

Booty and the Blowfish

The Brogue Warriors

Sneaking around

(yes, I am somehow missing one of my Missy Elliot Adidas Respect:Me hi-tops…they’re somewhere here!
To be honest, I didn’t really feel too bad when I looked at all these shoes. And then I rang my mum and recounted part of the story to her. “But darling, there’s 2 tea-chests filled with shoes here at home aswell!” came her retort. 
Tea CHESTS?!!! TWO?! Oh dear, I need to sit down. I didn’t realise it had quite gotten this bad. If you want me, i’ll be reading Imelda Marcos’s life story. 

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